The Gifts of Gilliflowers
by Mimimosa
Summary: An elf-maiden, bound to a chair and residing with a mute mother, embarks on a journey throughout Beleriand in pursuit of a gift of great beauty so she may present it to her mother and compel her to speak. For more so than all the treasures of the world, the elf-maiden wishes to have a conversation with her mother. She discovers some things have more value than others.


_Hi everyone. I've decided to post this story. Right now I haven't written in a long time so I'm still trying to find my words and the tone I want. _

_For some clarification. I took a lot of liberties here. For one, Ents and Entwives aren't given those names until much later by, I think, the Rohirrim. They are known to the Sindar elves as Onodrim or Onod, and this story takes place in the First Age. However, since I personally know them much better as Ents and Entwives, I've elected to use those names. _

_In addition, the character's disability also has a lot of creative liberty. She was inspired by a disabled friend of mine who has some walking capability but her condition is a joint condition and she can't walk very well or very far so she's largely wheelchair dependent. I don't want to get too medical or technical for the purpose of this story so I'm leaving it obscure as to exactly what causes the girl's disability._

_Lastly, do tell me what you think. I'm still a bit back and forth between continuing the story or not. I did enjoy writing this chapter but I'm a busy woman and other incentives really do help. Enjoy!_

There was a certain quality to be found throughout the land, daunting and magnificent in identity. It could seldom be described as anything besides living, for it appeared that the trees breathed and yawned with the gentle breezes of the sky as the shrubbery rustled atop the dewy soil. The sun rose above the earth and the warmth of its light bathed the chilled earth, and from the burrows beneath the bushes and trees did the small beasts of the forest cautiously crawl out. The birds would would tremble and shake themselves awake as to begin their jovial songs of the morning, below them the buzzing of insects around the colourful field of flowers would join in their music and bring forward a bright vigor in all nearby.

From a distance, a soft and tired patter of footsteps could be heard. This came from no beast of Orome or the falling fruits of Yavanna, but rather an elf-maid carrying her small elfling whose light steps brought no threat to the life that surrounded her. In one arm did the maid carry her little one, for the child clung tightly around her shoulder, and on the other arm did the maid carry a rather queer contraption of flat driftwood and at its sides wheels of soft bark taken from trees whose weight was too great and snapped in half. It was clumsily made and nearly useless, but it would have to be enough.

The elf-maiden set down her dearest elfling on a bed of flowers and placed beside the elf-child the odd contraption of driftwood and bark. She smiled at the small girl and kissed her forehead before leaving to collect fruits, roots, and vegetables. The elfling girl giggled and bounced herself upon the flowers to the best of her ability. From around her still sitting, she began to pick the bright and pretty flowers.

Some flowers she would set upon her lap and others she'd place in her hair or behind her ears. When she had picked the loveliest flowers from the bed she sat upon, she dragged herself gingerly onto the contraption and slightly wiggled her legs. She stood for a moment and took a single step before falling onto the floor with a grunt and a yelp, but it was just enough to get on her driftwood comfortably. She then pushed the wheels backwards and used the little strength she had in her legs to help propel her back until her legs became entirely numb with exhaust.

In that manner did the elfling move about the field from bed to bed, collecting her bright and pretty flowers and decorating all she saw with them, even other uglier flowers. It was not long until the elfling heard a loud rumble and gasped as she fell from her contraption with the sudden quake of the field. Desperately she searched for her mother but saw she had gone deeper into the forests for rarer herbs.

"Strange," a voice said. It sounded long and slow, a sort of slurred speech and almost drowsy in tone. "Great many beasts I have seen on my fields, but I have not seen an elfling. At least, not since a long time."

The girl looked towards the source of the sound and saw above her a tall, great tree with a wide canopy from which apples neatly hung. The tree had eyes and lips, arms and long legs slightly bent as it keenly observed the elfling.

The elfling brushed herself off and turned towards the speaking tree. "And I have not seen a talking tree," the child replied. "How do you talk, Mr. Tree?"

"Hm," the tree responded. "I tend to speak rather slowly. I do try to respond with haste, but you see, it is tiring work to form words. And tiring work takes time."

"No, Mr. Tree, I mean why do you talk!"

"Why do I talk? Why, to tell you things, elfling."

"No, Mr. Tree, I mean you speak when other trees do not!"

"Oh? I suppose they don't have many things to say, little one."

The elfling tilted her head in confusion. "Do you mean to say that other trees can talk too?"

"Perhaps. I don't know. They don't speak to me either."

The elfling sighed in defeat. It became clear to the child that answering questions was not a great skill among the trees, which is a great pity as elflings did ask many questions. "Tell me, Mr. Tree, why speak to me then?"

The great tree let out a long breath and slowly cleared its throat. "Elfling," it began. "You have plucked numerous flowers from their beds. They have whispered to me a desire for you to cease this violence. Ah, and I remembered now. I am not Mr. Tree. I am an entwife, you may call me Wandlimb."

A sudden sadness befell the child and she now held her flowers in pity and guilt. She had not meant to sow discord upon the flowers nor torment them with unforgiving violence, she had only wanted bright and pretty things to keep for herself. "Please, Wandlimb, tell the flowers I'm sorry. They were so pretty, I plucked them without care and put them in my hair and for that I do feel awful."

"Oh, no, elfling. No need to feel awful after an apology. Keep those flowers upon your hair, but take no more."

"Yes, Wandlimb. I shan't take more. But I may I ask one more question?"

"Aye, ask."

"What is an entwife?"

The entwife hummed in thought for a while and the branches upon its head rustled in perplexity. "Wives of the ents," Wandlimb replied.

"And what are the ents?"

"I am not good at counting, but this appears to be more than one question."

"No, it's still one."

"Are you sure, elfling?"

"No, but you're not good at counting so you can't prove otherwise."

"Cunning one! You speak truth! Very well. Ents are the husbands of the entwives and shepherds of the trees. I prefer flowers like those you plucked and the vegetation the elf-maid over there picks. Is that elf-maid your mother, elfling?"

The elfling girl glanced back but did not see her mother's figure. However, the child still nodded for she could hear none other than what she supposed was her mother. "Aye," she responded simply.

"And what did your mother name you, elfling?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't know my name, Wandlimb."

Wandlimb hummed once more in thought and cleared its throat of leaves. "Perhaps you will understand my question this way: what does your mother call you?" Wandlimb clarified.

And the girl shrugged once more as well. "My mother never calls me. But I suppose if she could speak, surely she'd call me something."

Wandlimb shook their head in dissatisfaction and scowled at the elfling's words. "Something," Wandlimb repeated. "No, I don't like Something. Something is not fit for an elfling, you shall receive a new name."

"Oh?" the elfling said. There was a rising excitement in the girl and she eagerly bid the tree to go on. "What are you going to call me?"

The branches rustled and from them an apple fell, rolling onto the feet of the elfling girl. It was when the apple struck to the sole of her foot that Wandlimb's eyes widened in realisation. "I will call you Gillyflower, for in your hair now live the gilliflowers of this field."

The girl smiled in delight and joy swelled in her heart. "Gillyflower," she repeated, awed by her new name. "My name is Gillyflower."

"A name of beauty but also, I say, of haste. For elves are hasty folk, and only hasty names are fit for their sort."

"Will I also have a name that isn't hasty?"

Wandlimb shook their head. "Not right now. That will need more time."

Gillyflower giggled at the slow words of Wandlimb and her cheeks flushed with excitement, something that caught the entwife's attention as their skin was made of bark and could not turn as pink as petals. A charming little one, the entwife decided, and so it was then that Wandlimb had chosen to count Gillyflower among her garden. Wandlimb spoke again, finally noticing the odd contraption at the knees of small Gillyflower. "Why," Wandlimb began. "What is that most odd and strange, so poorly made of interesting shape, flat with wheels at its side sort of thing you sit upon?"

Gillyflower inspected her contraption and scrunched up her nose. "Tis my chair," she responded.

"Your chair?"

"Aye, my chair. My chair needs wheels, for without wheels I can't walk."

"My, how curious the elves, that their wheels walk. I believed that to be a purpose of legs."

"Normally, but my legs can't walk as other legs do. I may stand briefly and sometimes I take a single step, but then I fall to the ground and rely on my wheels to move."

"Have you told your legs to walk?"

"Many times, but alas my legs can't do that. So I use these wheels." The elfling appeared sad at that moment, her small features turning into a frown.

Such a small little one, made even smaller by her invalid legs, Wandlimb thought in pity. But the thought was dismissed and Wandlimb slowly turned away. Gillyflower could not try to pursue the talking tree and continued to sit on her driftwood in wait for her mother, eager to tell her dear mother that she has acquired a name. Perhaps, Gillyflower believed, the trees could also give her mother a name.

There was a soft rustle amongst the bushes and with a sharp snap, the elf-maiden carrying two bags filled with the land's bounty returned from the forests. The elf-maid appeared to be tired and weary of her searches, but smiled still at her lovely daughter now covered with flowers and wet soil. The maid set down her bags and carefully scooped her child into her arms, nuzzling her head against the girl's in tender affection. Being one of the Eldar, the child could sense her mother's heart swell with love at the sight of the girl and rested comfortably against the elder one.

"Mummy!" the girl began, and her mother's eyes widened in alarm. "I have a new name!"

Her mother said nothing and instead pulled a twig from the child's hair.

The girl continued. "My name is Gillyflower. The talking tree named me! Their name was Wandlimb and they have apples on their head and they need more time to give me a not-hasty name. So this is what happened, mummy. I was picking flowers and then the tree began to speak to me, and I asked the tree why and how they talk but I never got an answer to those questions…"

Her mother's smile faded as she could sense a rustle and rumble from the distance as her child narrated her tale of talking trees. The elf-maid held her little one tightly to her as the sound came nearer to them. Before the maid had decided to run, an arm of bark and considerable size now perched before her and in its long hands and long fingers did it hold something out to the maid and her child.

The elleth said nothing upon seeing the tall tree with eyes and lips, arms and legs, and apples which hung from the head. The entwife also regarded her with curiosity before setting down the gift it had sought out for Gillyflower. "A gift," the entwife Wandlimb began, "for Gillyflower."

Before the elves was a pile of wood, strong and of craftsman quality that mortal men of these forests would hew and use for their greedy purposes. "With this gift, make Gillyflower a new chair. One with wheels that walk and shall take her far, for gilliflowers are not meant to sit idle. Will you do this, mute maid?"

The elleth said nothing but nodded slowly.

Wandlimb turned once more towards Gillyflower, whose blue eyes were bright and supple cheeks pink. "Neither flower nor tree have legs, yet still they inspire love and art in man and elf alike. And so I say do not let sadness fill your small bosom because your legs are not very good at walking or other leg things. Much else matters much more."

Gillyflower, with hair full of petals and dress stained with wet soil, was set down by her mother and with her arms moved towards the entwife and laid her body upon the pieces of wood gifted to her. "Yes, Wandlimb, sadness shan't lurk in my thoughts any longer."

The child touched the long finger of the entwife in gratitude and behind her, her mother eased herself of her worries. With the gift of Gillyflower, she would go to the grey-elves rather than the Laiquendi and bid them to construct a chair with wheels for her daughter, Gillyflower, for the Laiquendi would dare not use the wood hewn by an unknown creature and the maid would not speak to tell them how she acquired it.

"Go on, Gillyflower," Wandlimb said, turning away once more. "Now fly."


End file.
